


Not How It's Supposed To Go

by ObsessedChick



Category: Les Miserables
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Gen, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedChick/pseuds/ObsessedChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wedding and marriages were supposed to be filled with happiness and love. This one was forged from blackmail and greed. </p><p>Enjolras loves Grantaire. Cosette hates being trapped. They marry into heartbreak and sadness with seemingly no way out. But maybe there might be a way to find the light at the end of the tunnel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Is he here?" Enjolras heard himself ask Courfeyrac, who suddenly became stiff and awkward, looking to Combferre for answers.

"No," Combferre mumbles, walking around Courfeyrac to see how Enjolras looked, "We haven't heard much of him actually. He wants to be alone he says."

Enjolras could barely nod along, he barely registered anything these past couple of months. His heart, his mind, his everything ached for Grantaire. Enjolras felt need like a man who's been wandering the desert feels thirst. He wanted the smell of paint, the deep, gravely laugh echoing through his nearly empty apartment on the rare mornings they could lay in bed and relax. He wanted his boyfriend back. He wanted back so bad his heart cried out every second of every day.

A loud knock made the three of them jump, startling them out of their loaded silence. Enjolras' father announces fifteen minutes until the ceremony starts and they spend it in sickly anticipation.

￼

The woman pulled her hair out of her face, braiding in daisies every little while, babbling on and on about how beautiful the bride is. Cosette catches Eponine's eyes in the mirror and she knows her friend knows. The minute the woman leaves, tears leave Cosette's eyes, streaming down her cheeks and onto Eponines fingers.

"Shh, it's okay," Eponines voice soothes, rubbing her back reassuringly.

"Its not," she sobs quietly, "It won't be, 'Ponine, it feels like I'm dying." 

Eponine didn't know what to say so she sat there, allowing her friend to cry on her shoulder. It was too much like an execution. Weddings were supposed to be happy, instead everyone was waiting for the axe to fall. The girl who she loved like her own sister was hurting and she could do nothing to fix it. 

￼

A bride watches her groom at the end of the aisle. Lilies lay against her arm. Rose pettles at her feet. Her groom is a handsome man, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His eyes hold the same sadness as hers and for a short moment she feels satisfied. 

A groom spots his bride walking to him from the aisle. Everyone's eyes are on her and her eyes are on him. Through the thin white veil he can see those eyes. A deep dark green that makes his heart ache all over again. Through the makeup he sees eyes that are rimmed red and undoubtedly sad. He wonders if their guests could see it. A part of him hopes they can.

￼

Alone in a studio apartment twelve miles away a man refuses to cry. He seen the Save The Date on Joly's refrigerator. He ran home and cried when he seen it. He cried so much he couldn't breathe. He cried so much he threw up. The love of his life was going to get married. Nearly three months after their breakup he was already planning on marrying. 

"Oh fucking well." He muttered bitterly into his empty cold apartment. 

He hates them all right now. His friends, his ex, that beautiful woman with the pale skin and blonde hair. He fucking hates them all. He takes another drink for the bottle them angrily throws it across the room. He hates them.

"Fuck," he mumbles to himself and wipes the tears form his cheeks. He refuses to cry for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Cosette's cheeks hurt from smiling. She feels somewhat insane smiling so much but that's what brides did so in every photo and through every handshake shes was smiling widely. Her groom, Enjolras, was doing the same but she knows it's fake and she suspects he knows about hers. A man with wild curly hair and a man with glasses approach them after everyone else, introducing themselves to her as Combferre and Courfeyrac. They're Enjolras' friends and they look between them like someone he loved just passed away so with them she smiles the most because if she doesn't she knows she'll start crying again.

She's holding a scream behind her teeth for the better part of the night, and she just about cries with joy when Eponine asks her to get some fresh air and insists they leave together. She loves her 'Ponine.

"Thank you," Cosette says to her and she tips her head against the wind as soon as the door a open. 

"I thought you needed to be rescued," and they giggle.

"The nights pretty," Cosette tells her and they both stare up at the nights sky. The terrace is large and despite the loud celebration happening just feet away the night calm and quiet. In that moment she is reminded of the times when Thénardier was angry so they would take off walking somewhere. Some night they would stay out until the sun came up and now, as Cosette stares up at the moon, she wonders if it would be possible to do just that. The smile slips from her face and she lets it leave.

For a moment they're more than content to just stay there like that. Then Eponine mumbles, "Shit," and her mother's whispering threats and pulling Cosette back into the party. She tugs her arm away from Madame's harsh grasp earning herself a series of scratches on the inside of her wrist and an evil look as the Madame pulls up her glove and walks her back inside.

￼

Enjolras can breathe now that Cosettes not attached to his side with that wide smile. He knows it can't be real and that unsettles him. The way she looked at Combferre and Courfeyrac was like she was drunk on the air she breathes. He knows next to nothing about his wife and he hopes she's not insane. 

Cosette. Wedding. Wife. Words whirl around his head over and over like a broken record. He hates them all except one that screams through his body. Grantaire.

"Hi," the melodic but stiff voice if his wife says as she solids in the chair beside him again. He smiles again and throws his arm around her for show. How aunt comes by and wishes them well. Her distant cousin or some sort gives him a handshake. He wants it all to end so bad. He hates this.

￼

Then it does. The door to the honeymoon suite clicks shut and there's nothing in between them. They don't need to put on a show because there's no prying eyes just two strangers and silence. Without a word she walks over to the bed and sits and he follows behind her. He expects a kiss or at least expects her to say something but nothing comes. They both know what happens next and both are filled with dread. 

He doesn't know what to do other than hang his head in his hands, "I'm sorry." He says. He doesn't know what he's apologizing for but he feels like he needs to.

She doesn't respond and he thinks it's because she hadn't heard until he looks up to see her crying silently next to him. The sadness he seen in her eyes at the ceremony isn't hidden anymore, it's open and it's terrifying. Her sobs become uncontrollable and loud. He doesn't realize he's crying too until he throws and arm around her and cradles her against his chest. He can feel the wetness of his own tears against his face now. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I really am. I'm so sorry." 

She cries on and so he does too. He cries for him and her. Because he's only seen his life ending and not hers as well. He cries for the one he loves more than anything. He cries until his head hurts and his eyes are raw and there's makeup smeared against his suit jacket but he can't find it in himself to care. He cries so much he doesn't know when they stop, when exhaustion takes over. He doesn't dream that night and neither does his wife.

￼

Grantaire prefers when Feuilly knocks. Bahorel does it too loud. It sounds too much like his landlord. When Feuilly knocks it's always with the same rhythm. Bangbang pause bang. Always the same without fail. Now he won't stop and it's killing him. He doesn't want to fucking talk.

"Grantaire, open up," Bahorel shouts.

"Dude, everyone's worried about you!" Feuilly says and continues knocking.

"I'm fine." He mutters. No chance in hell they heard him. They keep pounding away. 

"I'm fine,"he says louder and the knocking stops for a second. Annoyed he shouts, "Leave me alone, I said in fine!"

The knocks stop but the voices don't. They're fighting. Grantaire picks up his bottle and takes one long, seemingly endless drink and walks over to the door. The bottle hits the ground with a loud bang and he throws the door open, watching the startled look on his friends faces. 

Now what, geniuses? What's your next step? What's the plan? He thinks but says, "I'm tired, I'm going to bed. Just stop fucking knocking."

He doesn't check to see if they followed, he just left the door open and collapsed on the couch, already drifting off to sleep.

If he were awake he would hear Feuilly tell Bahorel to get him to bed but he will end up there in the morning and not remember how. He would see Feuilly throw away two empty bottles and endless cigarette butts when Bahorel is done he will join him and they will steal three bottles frpm the fridge in an attempt to get Grantaire to stop drinking. He won't notice because it's happened before and he'll just go to the store and restock. The pain isn't there right now and that's all Grantaire cares about.


End file.
